So I have recited my morning 'Bharat mata ki jai' to prove my patriotism and avoid any danger of being beheaded. Prince William and his Kate are coming to town. They're going to play a cricket match with NGO kids. This is 2016 Lagaan, sans Aamir Khan
I've decided, I want to be Virat Kohli when I grow up. Or, at any rate, I want to be his clone. I want to reach his level of fitness, be that rich
So, Dada and Didi invited The Big B, the Little Master and evergreen Imran Khan to inaugurate the Indo-Pak summit T20 clash last Sunday in Kolkota.
Okay, so I’m going to just come right out and say it — Indian kids annoy me. Let me rephrase that before I get lynched — Indian kids whose parents let them run amok in restaurants, airport lounges, airplanes and movie houses, annoy me.
So it was a bright sunny morning when PM Modi Whatsapped MS Dhoni
In ‘Incredible India’, I’m getting increasingly confused with the English language. Stuck between this new weird Hindustani style word-play and the cryptic coolness of hipster-speak, I’m perplexed.
And so, the other evening, Jesus Christ, our Lord, called me
TWENTY fours years ago, my friend Sabbas Joseph (now the Wizcraft chief) and I stood nervously outside the St Xavier’s College principal’s office — Sabbas was the editor of the college magazine, The Xavierite — he’d written a controversial piece on the faulty nature of conducting exams. I’d written something on the questionable nature of the church.
USA politics fascinates and foxes me in equal measure. The Senate, the primaries, why Utah and Ohio are so vital
So, I’ve been invited to a wedding, a big fat Indian ‘shaadi’, next month. Nothing unusual about that
You see, I’ve realised that I am old-fashioned. Every day, it is becoming clearer and clearer to me that I am out of touch with today’s reality. Let me take you through my slow descent in certain areas.
So, as December morphs into January, and as debauched, dhaba food dabaoing, drunken sod, ‘chaddi buddies’ head back to their NRI lives/nature parks/nip tuck discipline - and I who have been tour operator/team leader/tout/tangdi kebab supplier, struggles for equilibrium, some random thoughts about Indian life:
There’s something tragically romantic about the passing away of rock and roll stars. They rarely seem to die of natural causes
So, as we launch into 2016, two areas of our existence intrigue me:
And, I'm watching the fireworks over Kowloon bay, Hong Kong. My first New Year away from an India, where there are 'phatakas' every day.
We are a 'gaana' obsessed nation. R & B, Ragas, Bhangra, rock and roll, reggae, remixes, RD Burman, Bappi Lahiri, Mohammed Rafi, Mika Singh, retro.
I find myself thinking much about the law this fortnight. Partly because I’ve myself been in and out of law courts. I mean what the British system left us, ‘Justice will be served’, can in turn fascinate and infuriate one
So Chennai limps back to normalcy. Like in most Indian calamities, it’s the Army and the aam aadmi who’ve done the heavy lifting
And as the year is winding down, I feel a sharp nip in the air — in contrast to the warmth exhibited in the new-found Narendra/Nawaz bromance, in the lobby of a Paris hotel...
Ever since emojis have made it to the Oxford dictionary, I’m obsessed with these 'face with tears of joy'